Viking Gold (36 page)

Harold snivelled and his
mouth seemed unable to form words. Drool hung from his nose. Olaf took a linen
square from his tunic and wiped it away. “There we go, lad,” he said, patting
Harold on the back. “A Viking doesn’t go to war with snot dangling from his
face.”

The steps were steep and
slick with water. As they descended slowly, they heard chanting coming from a ledge
about halfway down. The ledge disappeared behind the curtain of water, hiding
whoever was speaking. Redknee pointed to a narrow, moss-covered path that led
along the cliff wall, joining with the ledge. “We can use that,” he said.

Koll edged onto the first
foothold.

Redknee turned to the others.
“We have to be ready at the far end. We’ll be in single file, whoever is behind
the falls will have the advantage.”

“I’ll be ready,” Olaf said,
holding up his sword.

Redknee turned to Sinead.
“You wait here.”

“I will not.”

As he stared into her stony
eyes, he wondered why he’d allowed her to come this far. It would have been
much safer for her back at the tunnels.

“I’ll tie her up for you,”
Koll said.

“No need,” Sinead folded her
arms over her chest and reluctantly stood aside. “I’ll wait.”

Redknee followed Koll onto
the ledge. It was so narrow he had to press his body flat against the cliff;
cold rock grazed his cheek. Olvir followed him, then Magnus, with Olaf and
Harold bringing up the rear. The chanting grew louder. A different, higher
voice, answered.
Astrid’s perhaps?
He clung to the cracks in the rock
face and prayed it was only Astrid and Gisela on the ledge.

Koll disappeared behind the
spray. A woman’s scream echoed through the gorge followed by the sound of iron
clashing against iron. Redknee froze.

“Come on,” Olvir said,
placing a gentle hand on Redknee’s shoulder, “remember what you told me
before?”

Redknee looked into Olvir’s young
face and shook his head. All of a sudden, he felt dizzy. He dare not look down,
into that churning foam – falling would bring certain death.

“You said there was no way
back – some things have to be done.”

Redknee steadied himself.
Olvir was right.
There was nothing for it now.
Taking a deep breath, he
drew his battleaxe and leapt through the falls. Water pounded his face,
blinding him for precious seconds. By the time he opened his eyes, the tip of a
finely tempered steel sword pressed against his Adam’s apple.
Flame Weaver.
 

“Nice of you to join us,”
Ragnar said, grinning. “Now drop your axe.” Redknee hesitated; Ragnar pushed
the tip of
Flame Weaver
into the hollow of his throat. “
Do it.”

Cursing to himself, Redknee
complied. Ragnar kicked the axe off the ledge. He was grotesque up close. The
burned skin on his cheek had hardened like week-old porridge.

“Don’t stare at me, lad. Just
because life is yet to touch
you
. If everyone wore their character on
their face, there’d be much less vanity.” Redknee didn’t mean to obey, but he
felt himself lowering his eyes.

The ledge opened to a cave
that reached back into the cliff, large enough for several people to stand.
Koll was on his knees before Mord, two of Ragnar’s men holding him down. Astrid
and Gisela cowered behind them; Astrid’s face was pinched with fear. Gisela had
the
Codex
in her arms. Three other armed men crowded the ledge.

“We’ve more in common than
you think,” Ragnar continued, raising his voice above the thunder of the falls.
“Did you know your mother stayed with me for a time when her husband abandoned
her to go raiding?” 

“Don’t listen to that
turd-eating troll,” Koll said.

Redknee glanced at his
friend, the skin around his left eye was broken; blood smeared his cheek, but
Koll still found the strength to smile.

“I don’t believe you,”
Redknee said, meeting Ragnar’s eye. “She stayed with Ivar.”

Ragnar smiled and shook his
head. “No, no, young troll boy. Not
then
. Not once your uncle, the
thieving double-crossing snake, had the
Codex
. Before. When we were all
still friends. Though, what a fool I was to trust in the friendship of those
brothers.”

“You lie. It is you who
double-crossed them. You wanted the
Codex
for yourself. My father ...
Erik
… he was only seeking a better life. One free of tyrants like you.” As
Redknee spoke, he realised the irony in defending a man he knew wasn’t his real
father, but by Odin’s eye, he wasn’t going to let that affect his hatred for
Ragnar.

Ragnar snorted without mirth.
“And where was he going to find such a life?”

“You tell me,” Redknee
replied. “Isn’t that why you attacked my village? Killed my mother and
countless others? Chased us across the sea? All to get your hands on that
bloody book.” He pointed to the
Codex
, still in Gisela’s arms. “Are its
secrets worth all the lost lives?”

At that moment, Olvir tumbled
through the falls, landing at Mord’s feet. Mord quickly relieved Olvir of his
bow and pressed his foot into Olvir’s back, pinning him to the ground.

Olvir glanced up at Mord. “I
thought you were dead.”

“You should be so lucky,”
Mord said, grinding his heel into Olvir’s spine. The boy whimpered.

Ragnar turned back to
Redknee. “Any more uninvited guests I should know about? Should I expect the
pleasure of your
most
honourable uncle?”

Redknee shook his head but in
the same moment Magnus charged through the falls, slamming into Ragnar,
knocking him over.
Flame Weaver
skittered across the floor. Thinking
Magnus was going to seize the chance to drive his sword into Ragnar’s belly,
Redknee made for
Flame Weaver
, but Magnus hesitated, giving one of
Ragnar’s men time to jab him between the eyes with his pommel.

Ragnar stared at Magnus’s
unconscious body. “Best thing you could’ve done,” he said, patting the
man-at-arms on the back. “Now,” he said, collecting
Flame Weaver
and
turning to Redknee. “I believe you have something I want.”

“
Me?”
Redknee asked,
shaking his head. “It’s you who—”

“The Irish girl,” Ragnar
snapped. “Where is she? The one who reads Latin.”

Please
, he thought,
give Sinead the sense to stay outside
.

“Tell me where she is, or
I’ll …” he cast round, grabbing Olvir and hauling him to his feet. “I’ll toss
the boy in the drink.”

Redknee glanced at the
curtain of water. Where
was
Olaf? He had to delay. “Why do you need
Sinead? he asked. “Is it to read Latin?”

“That’s of no concern to
you,” Ragnar said, dragging Olvir forward until his toes met the edge and his
face glistened with spray.

Olvir pressed his eyes tight
shut.

Redknee remembered Mord had
been looking in the
Codex
for a map. “It’s just, there’s a map in the
book. You don’t need Latin to follow a map. If you’ll let me show—”

Ragnar frowned at Mord.

“The rat lies,” Mord said. “I
looked thoroughly. There’s no map.”

Ragnar turned back to
Redknee. “Is she outside?” he demanded. “Shall I go see?”

“No!”

Ragnar ignored him. “Bring
troll boy,” he said to one of his men before releasing Olvir and disappearing
through the spray. Reluctantly, Redknee shuffled out behind Ragnar, the tip of
Red-beard’s sword pressed into his back. Ragnar crossed the ledge in a couple
of bounds; displaying the agility of a much younger man.

On reaching the steps,
Redknee was relieved to see Sinead had gone. There was no sign of Olaf and
Harold either.

“Ah,” Ragnar said. “I have
misjudged you. I thought you lied, but I see I measured you by my own—”

“Throw down your weapons and
we’ll give you the girl.” Olaf appeared at the top of the cliff, holding a
dagger to Sinead’s throat. Harold cowered behind him, a look of twisted glee on
his face.

“I knew you wouldn’t have
left her behind,” Ragnar said, grinning at Redknee.

Anger rose from Redknee’s
gut. What was Olaf playing at?

Ragnar turned back to Olaf.
“Don’t be stupid. You’re outnumbered. Hand me the slave and I’ll let you and your
son go unharmed.”

“You and whose army?” Olaf
replied.

“If I call, twenty men will
rush to my aid.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Shall we put it to the
test?”

The steps were slippery and
the man-at-arms behind Redknee was young and clumsy – the kind of youth whose
joints seem yet too big for their limbs. One well-placed blow would give
Redknee the moments he needed. He shifted his weight, planting his feet wide
apart. He would only get one chance. Twisting, he drove his elbow up and under
his captor’s chin. The youth fell back. Redknee lunged at Ragnar, drawing
Harold’s dagger from his boot; pressing it against Ragnar’s throat and grabbing
Flame Weaver
before the bigger man realised what had happened.

The youth recovered and
hurtled forward.

“Stay where you are,” Redknee
growled. “Or I’ll carve my name in your master’s neck.” Ragnar raised his hand
and the youth backed down. Redknee turned to Olaf. “Leave Sinead, and go.”

Olaf shook his head and
lurched backwards, dragging her with him. Harold peered over the cliff. He spat
in Redknee’s direction then hobbled after his father until he was out of sight.

“Right,” Redknee said to
Ragnar, pushing him back onto the ledge towards the falls. “You have a few
things
I
want.” Before he went further, Redknee turned to the youth.
“Stay here,” he said. “If I see you so much as wriggle your little toe, I swear
I’ll cut off Ragnar’s ears and feed them to the pigs.”

“Do as he says,” Ragnar said
and the youth nodded solemnly.

Redknee forced Ragnar along
the ledge and through the falls.

“Father!” Mord cried, his
face wide with surprise.

“Stand back, son. Redknee
means us no harm. We’re like family to him – as I said before, we looked after
his mother when she was abandoned.”

“You
killed
my
mother.”

“An unfortunate mistake.”

“Stop lying. Just order Mord
to release my men and return their weapons.”

Ragnar nodded. Mord pushed
Olvir forward and directed his men-at-arms to release Koll.

Koll rubbed his wrists where
the men had held them. “Fart-breathed puke-eaters,” he said, delivering his
captors an evil look.

Magnus was still out cold.
“Wake him,” Redknee said.

Olvir shook Magnus.

“What happened?” Magnus asked
as he came round. “Did we win?”

“Just seeing to that,” Redknee
said. He turned to Mord. “I’m taking your father with me. You and your men will
remain here, and, once we are far enough away, I’m going to release him. But I
won’t do that if you come after us. Alright?”

Mord nodded reluctantly.

“Wait,” Astrid stepped
forward. “I want to come with you too.”

“Why?” Redknee asked. “I
thought you’d thrown your lot in with Ragnar.”

Astrid shook her head. “
Please
,
I didn’t know Gisela was planning to meet with Ragnar. I only came with her
because she told me she could help me find my husband. She said he passed
through
Greenland
two springs ago. Said she knew where he’d gone – that
she could show me if she had the book.”

Gisela laughed. “You are so
foolish – I know something about your Promised Land that would freeze your
blood.”

“We’re not interested,”
Redknee said, motioning to Olvir to take the
Codex
from Gisela. Olvir
hurried forward and tugged the book from her.

Gisela glowered at Redknee.
“You think you go to an empty land where you can all live like kings. Well you’re
wrong. It’s populated by fearsome warriors who possess the power to vanish and 
reappear at will. So fearsome are these warriors that only one man from the
dragon ships lived to tell the tale. Ulfsson was his name.”

“That’s enough,” Redknee
said, sensing the tension rising again. He motioned for the others to start
heading back along the ledge. Olvir went first, followed by Magnus and Koll.
They were eager to be rid of Gisela’s poisonous tongue.

“One last thing, Redknee, son
of Erik,” Gisela said, rising onto her tiptoes just as she had done in the
great hall only the day before. “You, who seek the truth about your father.
You’ve come far, but your journey is far from over; it will yet be fraught with
danger. In this, I condemn your fate to be tied to that of your gravest enemy.
For it is only from him that you will learn the truth.”

Before Redknee could do
anything, Ragnar shot forward, grabbed Gisela by the neck and without pause,
tossed her into the falls, her screams mingling with the thunder of the river.